Thirteen Years At The Russian Court by Pierre Gilliard

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Title: Thirteen years at the Russian court
(a personal record of the last years and death of the Czar
Nicholas II. and his family)

Author: Pierre Gilliard

Release Date: October 21, 2019 [EBook #60546]

Language: English

Character set encoding: UTF-8

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THIRTEEN YEARS AT THE RUSSIAN COURT

IN CAPTIVITY AT TSARSKOÏE-SELO

March to August, 1917

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[Image unavailable.]

THE CZAR CLEARING A PATH THROUGH THE SNOW IN THE PARK OF TSARSKOÏE-SELO AT THE END OF MARCH, 1917.

[Frontispiece.

THIRTEEN YEARS AT
THE RUSSIAN COURT

(A Personal Record of the Last Years and
Death of the Czar Nicholas II. and his Family)

BY

PIERRE GILLIARD

(Formerly Tutor to the Czarevitch)

TRANSLATED BY

F. APPLEBY HOLT, O.B.E.

With 59 Illustrations

THIRD EDITION

LONDON: HUTCHINSON & CO.

PATERNOSTER ROW

INTRODUCTION

N September, 1920, after staying three years in Siberia, I was able to return to Europe. My mind was still full of the poignant drama
with which I had been closely associated, but I was also still deeply impressed by the wonderful serenity and flaming faith of those

who had been its victims.

Cut off from communication with the rest of the world for many months, I was unfamiliar with recent publications on the subject

of the Czar Nicholas II. and his family. I was not slow to discover that though some of these works revealed a painful anxiety for
accuracy and their authors endeavoured to rely on serious records (although the information they gave was often erroneous or
incomplete so far as the Imperial family was concerned), the majority of them were simply a tissue of absurdities and falsehoods—in
other words, vulgar outpourings exploiting the most unworthy calumnies.[1]

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I was simply appalled to read some of them. But my indignation was far greater when I realised to my amazement that they had

been accepted by the general public.

To rehabilitate the moral character of the Russian sovereigns was a duty—a duty called for by honesty and justice. I decided at

once to attempt the task.

What I am endeavouring to describe is the drama of a lifetime, a drama I (at first) suspected under the brilliant exterior of a

magnificent Court, and then realised personally during our captivity when circumstances brought me into intimate contact with the
sovereigns. The Ekaterinburg drama was, in fact, nothing but the fulfilment of a remorseless destiny, the climax of one of the most
moving tragedies humanity has known. In the following pages I shall try to show its nature and to trace its melancholy stages.

There were few who suspected this secret sorrow, yet it was of vital importance from a historical point of view. The illness of the

Czarevitch cast its shadow over the whole of the concluding period of the Czar Nicholas II.’s reign and alone can explain it. Without
appearing to be, it was one of the main causes of his fall, for it made possible the phenomenon of Rasputin and resulted in the fatal
isolation of the sovereigns who lived in a world apart, wholly absorbed in a tragic anxiety which had to be concealed from all eyes.

In this book I have endeavoured to bring Nicholas II. and his family back to life. My aim is to be absolutely impartial and to

preserve complete independence of mind in describing the events of which I have been an eyewitness. It may be that in my search for
truth I have presented their political enemies with new weapons against them, but I greatly hope that this book will reveal them as they
really were, for it was not the glamour of their Imperial dignity which drew me to them, but their nobility of mind and the wonderful
moral grandeur they displayed through all their sufferings.

PIERRE GILLIARD.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER
PAGE

INTRODUCTION
vii

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
xi

I. MY FIRST LESSONS AT THE COURT (AUTUMN, 1905)
17

II. ALEXIS NICOLAÏEVITCH—VISITS TO THE CRIMEA (AUTUMN, 1911, AND SPRING, 1912)—SPALA (AUTUMN, 1912)
25

III. I BEGIN MY DUTIES AS TUTOR—THE CZAREVITCH’S ILLNESS (AUTUMN, 1913)
37

IV. THE CZARINA, ALEXANDRA FEODOROVNA
47

V. RASPUTIN
59

VI. ILIFE AT TSARSKOÏE-SELO—MY PUPILS (THE WINTER OF 1913-14)
69

VII. THE INFLUENCE OF RASPUTIN—MADAME WYROUBOVA—MY TUTORIAL TROUBLES (WINTER OF 1913)
81

VIII. JOURNEYS TO THE CRIMEA AND RUMANIA—PRESIDENT POINCARÉ’S VISIT—DECLARATION OF WAR BY GERMANY

(APRIL-JULY, 1914)
91

IX. THE IMPERIAL FAMILY IN THE FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR—OUR JOURNEY TO MOSCOW (AUGUST, 1914)
105

X. THE FIRST SIX MONTHS OF THE WAR
121

XI. THE RETREAT OF THE RUSSIAN ARMY—THE CZAR PLACES HIMSELF AT THE HEAD OF HIS ARMY—THE GROWING

INFLUENCE OF THE CZARINA (FEBRUARY-SEPTEMBER, 1915)
133

XII. NICHOLAS II. AS COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF—THE ARRIVAL OF THE CZAREVITCH AT G.H.Q.—VISITS TO THE

FRONT(SEPTEMBER-DECEMBER, 1915)
147

XIII. THE CZAR AT THE DUMA—THE CAMPAIGN IN GALICIA—OUR LIFE AT G.H.Q.—GROWING DISAFFECTION IN THE REAR

(1916)
161

XIV. POLITICAL TENSION—THE DEATH OF RASPUTIN (DECEMBER, 1916)
177

XV. THE REVOLUTION—THE ABDICATION OF NICHOLAS II. (MARCH, 1917)
187

XVI. THE CZAR NICHOLAS II.
203

XVII. THE REVOLUTION SEEN FROM THE ALEXANDER PALACE—THE CZAR’S RETURN TO TSARSKOÏE-SELO
209

XVIII. FIVE MONTHS’ CAPTIVITY AT TSARSKOÏE-SELO (MARCH-AUGUST, 1917)
221

XIX. OUR CAPTIVITY AT TOBOLSK (AUGUST-DECEMBER, 1917)
239

XX. END OF OUR CAPTIVITY AT TOBOLSK (JANUARY-MAY, 1918)
251

XXI. EKATERINBURG—THE MURDER OF THE IMPERIAL FAMILY DURING THE NIGHT OF JULY 16-17TH, 1918
269

XXII. THE CIRCUMSTANCES OF THE CRIME ESTABLISHED BY THE ENQUIRY
281

EPILOGUE
299

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

The Czar clearing snow at Tsarskoïe-Selo
Frontispiece

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Facing page

The Czarevitch in the park of Tsarskoïe-Selo
20

The four Grand-Duchesses in 1909
20

The Czarina before her marriage
26

The Czarevitch at the age of fifteen months
26

The Grand-Duchesses Marie and Anastasie in theatrical costume
30

The Czarina at the Czarevitch’s bedside
30

The four Grand-Duchesses gathering mushrooms
40

The Czarevitch cutting corn he had sown at Peterhof
40

Letter to the author from the Grand-Duchess Olga Nicolaïevna, 1914
60

The Czarevitch with his dog “Joy”
70

The Czarina and the Czarevitch in the court of the palace at Livadia
74

The Czarina sewing in the Grand-Duchesses’ room
74

Excursion to the “Red Rock” on May 8th, 1914
92

The four Grand-Duchesses, 1914

92

The Czar and Czarevitch examining a captured German machine-gun, 1914
110

The Czar and Czarevitch before the barbed wire, 1915
110

The Czar
134

The Czarevitch
134

The Czarina
140

The four Grand-Duchesses
140

The Czar and Czarevitch on the banks of the Dnieper, 1916
148

The Czar and Czarevitch near Mohileff, 1916
148

The Czar and Czarevitch at a religious service at G.H.Q., Mohileff
154

The Grand-Duchesses visiting the family of a railway employee
166

The Czarina and Grand-Duchess Tatiana talking to refugees
166

The Grand-Duchess Marie as a convalescent
212

The four Grand-Duchesses in the park at Tsarskoïe-Selo
212

The Czarina’s room in the Alexander Palace
216

The Portrait Gallery
216

The Czar, his children and their companions in captivity working in the park
222

The Czar working in the kitchen-garden
226

The Czarina, in an invalid chair, working at some embroidery
226

The Grand-Duchess Tatiana carrying turf
230

The Czar and his servant Juravsky sawing the trunk of a tree
230

The Grand-Duchesses Tatiana and Anastasie taking a water-butt to the kitchen-garden
234

The Imperial family’s suite at Tsarskoïe-Selo, 1917
234

The Grand-Duchess Tatiana a prisoner in the park of Tsarskoïe-Selo
240

Alexis Nicolaïevitch joins the Grand-Duchess
240

The Czar and his children in captivity enjoying the sunshine at Tobolsk
246

The Governor’s house at Tobolsk, where the Imperial family were interned
252

The Czar sawing wood with the author
256

Alexis Nicolaïevitch on the steps of the Governor’s house
256

The Imperial family at the main door of the Governor’s house
260

The Czarina’s room
260

The priest celebrating Mass in the Governor’s house after the departure of Their Majesties
264

The river steamer Rouss on which the Czar and his family travelled
264

Ipatief’s house at Ekaterinburg, in which the Imperial family were interned and subsequently massacred
270

Yourovsky, from a photograph produced at the enquiry
272

The Grand-Duchesses’ room in Ipatief’s house
272

Ipatief’s house from the Vosnessensky street
276

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The Czarina’s favourite lucky charm, the “Swastika”
276

The room in Ipatief’s house in which the Imperial family and their companions were put to death
282

Mine-shaft where the ashes were thrown
286

The search in the mine-shaft
286

M. Sokoloff examining the ashes nearest to the mine-shaft
290

M. Sokoloff examining traces of fire at foot of an old pine
290

Dr. Botkin, who was killed with the Imperial family
294

A group taken at Tobolsk
294

Thirteen Years at the Russian Court

CHAPTER I

MY FIRST LESSONS AT THE COURT

(AUTUMN, 1905)

N the autumn of 1904 I accepted a proposal which had been made to me to go to Duke Sergius of Leuchtenberg as French
professor.

My pupil’s father, Duke George of Leuchtenberg, was the grandson of Eugène de Beauharnais; through his mother, the Grand-

Duchess Marie Nicolaïevna, daughter of Nicholas I., he was a cousin of the Czar Nicholas II.

At the time the family were at the small estate they possessed on the shores of the Black Sea. They spent the whole winter there.

It was there that we were surprised by the tragic events of the spring of 1905 and passed through many a poignant hour owing to the
revolt of the Black Sea Fleet, the bombardment of the coast, the series of pogroms, and the violent acts of repression which followed.
From the very start Russia showed herself to me under a terrible and menacing aspect, a presage of the horrors and sufferings she had
in store for me.

At the beginning of June the family took up their residence in the attractive Villa Sergievskaïa Datcha, which the Duke possessed

at Peterhof. The contrast was most striking as we left the barren coast of the southern Crimea, with its little Tatar villages snuggling in
the mountains and its dusty cypresses, for the splendid forests and delicious fresh breezes of the shores of the Gulf of Finland.

Peterhof had been the favourite residence of its founder, Peter the Great. It was there that he rested from the exhausting work of

building St. Petersburg, the city which at his command rose from the marshes at the mouth of the Neva as if by enchantment—a city
destined to rival the great European capitals.

Everything about Peterhof recalls its creator. First of all there is Marly in which he resided for some time—a “maisonnette” out in

the water on an isthmus of land separating two great lakes. Then comes the Hermitage, by the shores of the gulf where he liked to treat
his helpers to banquets where the wine flowed freely. There is Monplaisir, a building in the Dutch style with a terrace sheer above the
sea. It was his favourite residence. How curious that this “landsman” loved the sea so much! Last comes the Great Palace, which, with
its lakes and the superb views in its park, he meant to rival the splendours of Versailles.

All these buildings, with the exception of the Great Palace, produce the impression of those abandoned, empty edifices which

memories of the past alone can bring to life.

The Czar Nicholas II. had inherited his ancestors’ preference for this delicious spot, and every summer he brought his family to

the little Alexandria Cottage in the centre of a wooded park which sheltered it from prying eyes.

The Duke of Leuchtenberg’s family spent the entire summer of 1905 at Peterhof. Intercourse between Alexandria and

Sergievskaïa Datcha was lively, for the Czarina and the Duchess of Leuchtenberg were on terms of the closest friendship. I was thus
able to get occasional glimpses of the members of the royal family.

When my time ran out it was suggested that I should stay on as tutor to my pupil and at the same time teach French to the Grand-

Duchesses Olga Nicolaïevna and Tatiana Nicolaïevna, the two elder daughters of the Czar Nicholas II. I agreed, and after a short visit
to Switzerland I returned to Peterhof in the early days of September. A few weeks later I took up my new duties at the Imperial Court.

On the day appointed for my first lesson a royal carriage came to take me to Alexandria Cottage, where the Czar and his family

were residing. Yet in spite of the liveried coachman, the Imperial arms on the panels, and the orders with regard to my arrival which
had no doubt been given, I learned to my cost that it was no easy task to enter the residence of Their Majesties. I was stopped at the
park gates, and there were several minutes of discussion before I was allowed to go in. On turning a corner I soon observed two small
brick buildings connected by a covered bridge. If the carriage had not stopped I should not have known I had arrived at my
destination.

I was taken up to a small room, soberly furnished in the English style, on the second storey. The door opened and the Czarina

came in, holding her daughters Olga and Tatiana by the hand. After a few pleasant remarks she sat down at the table and invited me to

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take a place opposite her. The children sat at each end.

The Czarina was still a beautiful woman at that time. She was tall and slender and carried herself superbly. But all this ceased to

count the moment one looked into her eyes—those speaking, grey-blue eyes which mirrored the emotions of a sensitive soul.

Olga, the eldest of the Grand-Duchesses, was a girl of ten, very fair, and with sparkling, mischievous eyes and a slightly retroussé

nose. She examined me with a look which seemed from the first moment to be searching for the weak point in my armour, but there
was something so pure and frank about the child that one liked her straight off.

The second girl, Tatiana, was eight and a half. She had auburn hair and was prettier than her sister, but gave one the impression

of being less transparent, frank, and spontaneous.

The lesson began. I was amazed, even embarrassed, by the very simplicity of a scene I had anticipated would be quite different.

The Czarina followed everything I said very closely. I distinctly felt that I was not so much giving a lesson as undergoing an
examination. The contrast between anticipation and reality quite disconcerted me. To crown my discomfort, I had had an idea that my
pupils were much more advanced than they actually were. I had selected certain exercises, but they proved far too difficult. The lesson
I had prepared was useless, and I had to improvise and resort to expedients. At length, to my great relief, the clock struck the hour
and put an end to my ordeal.

In the weeks following the Czarina was always present at the children’s lessons, in which she took visible interest. Quite

frequently, when her daughters had left us, she would discuss with me the best means and methods of teaching modern languages, and
I was always struck by the shrewd good sense of her views.

Of those early days I have preserved the memory of a lesson I gave a day or two previous to the issue of the Manifesto of

[Image unavailable.]

THE CZAREVITCH IN THE PARK OF TSARSKOÏE-SELO.

WINTER OF 1908.

[Image unavailable.]

THE FOUR GRAND-DUCHESSES. (CRIMEA, 1909.)

(From left to right: Anastasie, Tatiana, Marie, Olga).

[Facing page 2.

October, 1905, which summoned the Duma. The Czarina was sitting in a low chair near the window. She struck me instantly as
absent-minded and preoccupied. In spite of all she could do, her face betrayed her inward agitation. She made obvious efforts to

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concentrate her thoughts upon us, but soon relapsed into a melancholy reverie in which she was utterly lost. Her work slipped from her
fingers to her lap. She had clasped her hands, and her gaze, following her thoughts, seemed lost and indifferent to the things about her.

I had made a practice, when the lesson was over, of shutting my book and waiting until the Czarina rose as a signal for me to

retire. This time, notwithstanding the silence which followed the end of the lesson, she was so lost in thought that she did not move. The
minutes passed and the children fidgeted. I opened my book again and went on reading. Not for a quarter of an hour, when one of the
Grand-Duchesses went up to her mother, did she realise the time.

After a few months the Czarina appointed one of her ladies-in-waiting, Princess Obolensky, to take her place during my lessons.

She thus marked the end of the kind of trial to which I had been subjected. I must admit the change was a relief. I was far more at my
ease in Princess Obolensky’s presence, and besides, she gave me devoted help. Yet of those first months I have preserved a vivid
recollection of the great interest which the Czarina, a mother with a high sense of duty, took in the education and training of her
children. Instead of the cold and haughty Empress of which I had heard so much, I had been amazed to find myself in the presence of a
woman wholly devoted to her maternal obligations.

It was then, too, that I learned to realise by certain signs that the reserve which so many people had taken as an affront and had

made her so many enemies was rather the effect of a natural timidity, as it were—a mask covering her sensitiveness.

I will give one detail which illustrates the Czarina’s anxious interest in the upbringing of her children and the importance she

attached to their showing respect for their teachers by observing that sense of decorum which is the first element of politeness. While
she was present at my lessons, when I entered the room I always found the books and notebooks piled neatly in my pupils’ places at
the table, and I was never kept waiting a moment. It was the same afterwards. In due course my first pupils, Olga and Tatiana, were
joined by Marie, in 1907, and Anastasie, in 1909, as soon as these two younger daughters had reached their ninth year.[2]

The Czarina’s health, already tried by her anxiety about the menace hanging over the Czarevitch’s head, by degrees prevented

her from following her daughters’ education. At the time I did not realise what was the cause of her apparent indifference, and was
inclined to censure her for it, but it was not long before events showed me my mistake.

CHAPTER II

ALEXIS NICOLAÏEVITCH—VISITS TO THE CRIMEA

(AUTUMN, 1911, AND SPRING, 1912)

SPALA (AUTUMN, 1912)

HE Imperial family used regularly to spend the winter at Tsarskoïe-Selo, a pretty little country town some thirteen miles south of
Petrograd. It stands on a hill at the top of which is the Great Palace, a favourite residence of Catherine II. Not far away is a much

more modest building, the Alexander Palace, half hidden in trees of a park studded with little artificial lakes. The Czar Nicholas II. had
made it one of his regular residences ever since the tragic events of January, 1905.

The Czar and Czarina occupied the ground floor of one wing and their children the floor above. The central block comprised

state apartments and the other wing was occupied by certain members of the suite.

It was there that I saw the Czarevitch, Alexis Nicolaïevitch, then a baby of eighteen months old, for the first time, and under the

following circumstances. As usual, I had gone that day to the Alexander Palace, where my duties called me several times a week. I
was just finishing my lesson with Olga Nicolaïevna when the Czarina entered the room, carrying the son and heir. She came towards
us, and evidently wished to show the one member of the family I did not yet know. I could see she was transfused by the delirious joy
of a mother who at last has seen her dearest wish fulfilled. She was proud and happy in the beauty of her child. The Czarevitch was
certainly one of the handsomest babies one could imagine, with his lovely fair curls and his great blue-grey eyes under their fringe of
long curling lashes. He had the fresh pink colour of a healthy child, and when he smiled there were two little dimples in his chubby
cheeks. When I went near him a solemn, frightened look came into his eyes, and it took a good deal to induce him to hold out a tiny
hand.

At that first meeting I saw the Czarina press the little boy to her with the convulsive movement of a mother who always seems in

fear of her child’s life. Yet with her the caress and the look which accompanied it revealed a secret apprehension so marked and
poignant that I was struck at once. I had not very long to wait to know its meaning.

During the years following I had increasing opportunities of seeing Alexis Nicolaïevitch, who made a practice of escaping from his

sailor nurse and running into his sisters’ schoolroom, from which he was soon fetched. And yet at times his visits would suddenly
cease, and for quite a considerable period he was seen no more. Every time he disappeared everyone in the palace was smitten with
the greatest depression. My pupils betrayed it in a mood of melancholy they tried in vain to conceal. When I asked them the cause,
they answered evasively that Alexis Nicolaïevitch was not well. I knew from other sources that he was a prey to a disease which was
only mentioned inferentially and the nature of which no one ever told me.

As I have already said, when I was released from my duties

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[Image unavailable.]

THE CZARINA, A FEW MONTHS BEFORE HER MARRIAGE.

SUMMER OF 1894.

THE CZAREVITCH AT THE AGE OF FIFTEEN MONTHS. (1905.)

[Facing page 26.]

as tutor to Duke Sergius of Leuchtenberg in 1909 I could give more time to the Grand-Duchesses. I lived in St. Petersburg and visited
Tsarskoïe-Selo five times a week. Although the number of lessons I gave had considerably increased, my pupils made but slow
progress, largely because the Imperial family spent months at a time in the Crimea. I regretted more and more that they had not been
given a French governess, and each time they returned I always found they had forgotten a good deal. Mademoiselle Tioutcheva, their
Russian governess, could not do everything, for all her intense devotion and perfect knowledge of languages. It was with a view to
overcoming this difficulty that the Czarina asked me to accompany the family when they left Tsarskoïe-Selo for a considerable time.

My first visit under the new dispensation was to the Crimea in the autumn of 1911. I lived in the little town of Yalta, with my

colleague, M. Petrof, professor of Russian, who had also been asked to continue his course of teaching. We went to Livadia every day
to give our lessons.

The kind of life we led was extremely agreeable, for out of working hours we were absolutely free, and could enjoy the beautiful

climate of the “Russian Riviera” without having to observe the formalities of Court life.

In the spring of the following year the family again spent several months in the Crimea. M. Petrof and I were lodged in a little

house in the park of Livadia. We took our meals with some of the officers and officials of the Court, only the suite and a few casual
visitors being admitted to the Imperial luncheon-table. In the evening the family dined quite alone.

A few days after our arrival, however, as the Czarina wished (as I subsequently ascertained) to give a delicate proof of her

esteem for those to whom she was entrusting the education of her children, she instructed the Court Chamberlain to invite us to the
Imperial table.

I was highly gratified by the feelings which had prompted this kindness, but these meals meant a somewhat onerous obligation, at

any rate at the start, although Court etiquette was not very exacting in ordinary times.

My pupils, too, seemed to get tired of these long luncheons, and we were all glad enough to get back to the schoolroom to our

afternoon lessons and simple, friendly relations. I seldom saw Alexis Nicolaïevitch. He almost always took his meals with the Czarina,
who usually stayed in her own apartments.

On June 10th we returned to Tsarskoïe-Selo, and shortly afterwards the Imperial family went to Peterhof, from which they

proceeded to their annual cruise in the fjords of Finland on the Standard.

At the beginning of September, 1912, the family left for the Forest of Bielovesa,[3] where they spent a fortnight, and then

proceeded to Spala[4] for a longer visit. M. Petrof and I joined them there at the end of September. Shortly after my arrival the
Czarina told me she wanted me to take Alexis Nicolaïevitch also. I gave him the first lesson on October 2nd in the presence of his
mother. The child was then eight and a half. He did not know a word of French, and at first I had a good deal of difficulty. My lessons
were soon interrupted, as the boy, who had looked to me ill from the outset, soon had to take to his bed. Both my colleague and
myself had been struck by his lack of colour and the fact that he was carried as if he could not walk.[5] The disease from which he was
suffering had evidently taken a turn for the worse.

A few days later it was whispered that his condition was giving rise to extreme anxiety, and that Professors Rauchfuss and

Fiodrof had been summoned from St. Petersburg. Yet life continued as before; one shooting-party succeeded another, and the guests
were more numerous than ever.

One evening after dinner the Grand-Duchesses Marie and Anastasie Nicolaïevna gave two short scenes from the Bourgeois

Gentilhomme in the dining-room before Their Majesties, the suite, and several guests. I was the prompter, concealed behind a screen
which did duty for the wings. By craning my neck a little I could see the Czarina in the front row of the audience smiling and talking
gaily to her neighbours.

When the play was over I went out by the service door and found myself in the corridor opposite Alexis Nicolaïevitch’s room,

from which a moaning sound came distinctly to my ears. I suddenly noticed the Czarina running up, holding her long and awkward train
in her two hands. I shrank back against the wall, and she passed me without observing my presence. There was a distracted and
terror-stricken look in her face. I returned to the dining-room. The scene was of the most animated description. Footmen in livery were
handing round refreshments on salvers. Everyone was laughing and exchanging jokes. The evening was at its height.

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A few minutes later the Czarina came back. She had resumed the mask and forced herself to smile pleasantly at the guests who

crowded round her. But I had noticed that the Czar, even while engaged in conversation, had taken up a position from which he could
watch the door, and I caught the despairing glance which the Czarina threw him as she came in. An hour later I returned to my room,
still thoroughly upset at the scene which had suddenly brought home to me the tragedy of this double life.

Yet, although the invalid’s condition was still worse, life had apparently undergone no change. All that happened was that we saw

less and less of the Czarina. The Czar controlled his anxiety and continued his shooting-parties, while the usual crowd of guests
appeared at dinner every evening.

On October 17th Professor Fiodrof arrived from St. Petersburg at last, I caught sight of him for a moment in the evening. He

looked very worried. The next day was Alexis Nicolaïevitch’s birthday. Apart from a religious service, there was nothing to mark the
occasion. Everyone followed Their Majesties’ example and endeavoured to conceal his or her apprehensions.

On October 19th the fever was worse, reaching 102·5° in the morning and 103·3° in the evening. During dinner the Czarina had

Professor Fiodrof fetched. On Sunday, October 20th, the patient’s condition was still worse. There were, however, a few guests at
luncheon. The next day, as the Czarevitch’s temperature went up to 105° and the heart was very feeble, Count Fredericks asked the
Czar’s permission to publish bulletins. The first was sent to St. Petersburg the same evening.

Thus the intervention of the highest official at Court had been necessary before the decision to admit the gravity of the

Czarevitch’s condition was taken.

Why did the Czar and Czarina subject themselves to this

[Image unavailable.]

THE GRAND-DUCHESSES MARIE AND ANASTASIE DRESSED UP FOR A SCENE FROM THE “BOURGEOIS GENTILHOMME.” SPALA, AUTUMN OF

1912.

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THE CZARINA AT THE CZAREVITCH’S BEDSIDE DURING HIS SEVERE ATTACK OF HÆMOPHILIA AT SPALA IN THE AUTUMN OF 1912.

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dreadful ordeal? Why, when their one desire in life was to be with their suffering son, did they force themselves to appear among their
guests with a smile on their lips? The reason was that they did not wish the world to know the nature of the Heir’s illness, and, as I
knew myself, regarded it in the light of a state secret.

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I

On the morning of October 22nd the child’s temperature was 103·5°. About midday, however, the pains gradually subsided, and

the doctors could proceed to a more thorough examination of the invalid, who had hitherto refused to allow it on account of his terrible
sufferings.

At three o’clock in the afternoon there was a religious service in the forest. It was attended by a large number of peasants from

the surrounding districts.

Beginning on the previous day, prayers for the recovery of the Heir were said twice a day. As there was no church at Spala, a

tent with a small portable altar had been erected in the park as soon as we arrived. The priest officiated there morning and night.

After a few days, during which we were all a prey to the most terrible apprehensions, the crisis was reached and passed, and the

period of convalescence began. It was a long and slow business, however, and we could feel that, notwithstanding the change for the
better, there was still cause for anxiety. As the patient’s condition required constant and most careful watching, Professor Fiodrof had
sent for Dr. Vladimir Derevenko,[6] one of his young assistants, from St. Petersburg. This gentleman henceforth remained in constant
attendance on the Czarevitch.

The newspapers about this time had a good deal to say of the young Heir’s illness—and the most fantastic stories were going

round. I only had the truth some time later, and then from Dr. Derevenko himself. The crisis had been brought on by a fall of Alexis
Nicolaïevitch at Bielovesa. In trying to get out of a boat he had hit his left thigh on the side, and the blow had caused rather profuse
internal hæmorrhage. He was just getting better when some imprudence at Spala suddenly aggravated his condition. A sanguineous
tumour formed in the groin and nearly produced a serious infection.

On November 16th it was possible to think of removing the child, without too great danger of relapse but with extreme care,

from Spala to Tsarskoïe-Selo, where the Imperial family passed the entire winter.

Alexis Nicolaïevitch’s condition required assiduous and special medical attention. His illness at Spala had left behind it a

temporary atrophy of the nerves of the left leg, which remained drawn up and could not be straightened out by the boy himself.
Massage and orthopedic appliances were necessary, but in time these measures brought the limb back to its normal position.

It is hardly necessary to say that under these circumstances I could not even think of resuming my work with the Czarevitch. This

state of things lasted until the summer holidays of 1913.

I was in the habit of visiting Switzerland every summer. That year the Czarina informed me a few days before I left that on my

return she proposed to appoint me tutor to Alexis Nicolaïevitch. The news filled me with a mingled sense of pleasure and
apprehension. I was delighted at the confidence shown in me, but nervous of the responsibility it involved. Yet I felt I had no right to try
and escape the heavy task assigned to me, as circumstances might enable me to exercise some influence, however slight, on the
intellectual development of the boy who would one day be the ruler of one of the mightiest states of Europe.

CHAPTER III

I BEGIN MY DUTIES AS TUTOR—THE CZAREVITCH’S ILLNESS

(AUTUMN, 1913)

RETURNED to St. Petersburg at the end of August. The Imperial family was in the Crimea. I called on the Controller of Her
Majesty’s Household for my instructions and left for Livadia, which I reached on September 3rd. I found Alexis Nicolaïevitch pale

and thin. He still suffered very much, and was undergoing a course of high-temperature mud-baths, which the doctors had ordered as a
cure for the last traces of his accident but which he found extremely trying.

Naturally I waited to be summoned by the Czarina to receive exact instructions and suggestions from her personally. But she did

not appear at meals and was not to be seen. She merely informed me through Tatiana Nicolaïevna that while the treatment was in
progress regular lessons with Alexis Nicolaïevitch were out of the question. As she wished the boy to get used to me, she asked me to
go with him on his walks and spend as much time with him as I could.

I then had a long talk with Dr. Derevenko. He told me that the Heir was a prey to hæmophilia, a hereditary disease which in

certain families is transmitted from generation to generation by the women to their male children. Only males are affected. He told me
that the slightest wound might cause the boy’s death, for the blood of a bleeder had not the power of coagulating like that of a normal
individual. Further, the tissue of the arteries and veins is so frail that any blow or shock may rupture the blood-vessel and bring on a
fatal hæmorrhage.

Such was the terrible disease from which Alexis Nicolaïevitch was suffering, such the perpetual menace to his life. A fall, nose-

bleeding, a simple cut—things which were a trifle to any other child—might prove fatal to him. All that could be done was to watch
over him closely day and night, especially in his early years,[7] and by extreme vigilance try to prevent accidents. Hence the fact that at
the suggestion of the doctors he had been given two ex-sailors of the Imperial yacht, Derevenko and his assistant Nagorny, as his
personal attendants and bodyguard. They looked after him in rotation.

My first relations with the boy in my new appointment were not easy. I was obliged to talk in Russian with him and give up

French. My position was delicate, as I had no rights and therefore no hold over him.

As I have said, at first I was astonished and disappointed at the lack of support given me by the Czarina. A whole month had

passed before I received any instructions from her. I had a feeling that she did not want to come between her son and myself. It made
my initial task much more difficult, but it might have the advantage, once I had established my position, of enjoying it with greater

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freedom and personal authority. About this time I had moments of extreme discouragement, and in fact I sometimes despaired of
success and felt ready to abandon the task I had undertaken.

Fortunately for me, in Dr. Derevenko I found a wise adviser whose help was of infinite value. He impressed on me the necessity

for patience, and told me that, in view of the constant danger of the boy’s relapse, and as a result of a kind of religious fatalism which
the Czarina had developed, she tended to leave decision to circumstance and kept on postponing her intervention, which would simply
inflict useless suffering on her son if he was not to survive. She did not feel equal to battling with the child to make him accept me.

I understood myself, of course, that circumstances were unfavourable, but I still cherished a hope that one day the health of my

pupil would improve.

The serious malady from which the Czarevitch had barely recovered had left him very weak and nervous. At this time he was the

kind of child who can hardly bear correction. He had never been under any regular discipline. In his eyes I was the person appointed
to extract work and attention from him, and it was my business to bend his will to the habit of obedience. To all the existing
supervision, which at any rate allowed him idleness as a place of refuge, was to be added a new control which would violate even that
last retreat. He felt it instinctively without realising it consciously. I had a definite impression of his mute hostility, and at times it reached
a stage of open defiance.

I felt a terrible burden of responsibility, for with all my precautions it was impossible always to prevent accidents. There were

three in the course of the first month.

Yet as time passed by I felt my authority gaining a hold. I noticed more and more frequent bursts of confidence on the part of my

pupil, and they seemed to me a promise of affectionate relations before long.

The more the boy opened his heart to me the better I realised the treasures of his nature, and I gradually began to feel certain that

with so many precious gifts it would be unjust to give up hope.

Alexis Nicolaïevitch was then nine and a half, and rather tall for his age. He had a long, finely-chiselled face, delicate features,

auburn hair with a coppery glint in it, and large blue-grey eyes like his mother’s. He thoroughly enjoyed life—when it let him—and was
a happy, romping boy. Very simple in his tastes, he extracted no false satisfaction from the fact that he was the Heir—there was
nothing he thought about less—and his greatest delight was to play with the two sons of his sailor Derevenko, both of them a little
younger than he.

He had very quick wits and a keen and penetrating mind. He sometimes surprised me with questions beyond his years which

bore witness to a delicate and intuitive spirit. I had no difficulty in believing that those who were not forced, as I was, to teach him
habits of discipline, but could unreservedly enjoy his charm, easily fell under its spell. Under the capricious little creature I had known
at first I discovered a child of a naturally affectionate disposition, sensitive to suffering in others just because he had already suffered so
much himself. When this conviction had taken root in my mind I was full of hope for the future. My task would have been easy had it
not been for the Czarevitch’s associates and environment.

As I have already said, I was on excellent terms with Dr. Derevenko. There was, however, one point on which we were

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THE FOUR GRAND-DUCHESSES GATHERING MUSHROOMS IN THE FOREST OF BIELOVESA. AUTUMN OF 1912.

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THE CZAREVITCH CUTTING CORN HE HAD SOWN IN THE PARK AT PETERHOF. SUMMER OF 1913.

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not in agreement. I considered that the perpetual presence of the sailor Derevenko and his assistant Nagorny was harmful to the child.
The external power which intervened whenever danger threatened seemed to me to hinder the development of will-power and the
faculty of observation. What the child gained—possibly—in safety he lost in real discipline. I thought it would have been better to give
him more freedom and accustom him to look to himself for the energy to resist the impulses of his own motion.

Besides, accidents continued to happen. It was impossible to guard against everything, and the closer the supervision became, the

more irritating and humiliating it seemed to the boy, and the greater the risk that it would develop his skill at evasion and make him
cunning and deceitful. It was the best way of turning an already physically delicate child into a characterless individual, without self-
control and backbone, even in the moral sense.

I spoke in that sense to Dr. Derevenko, but he was so obsessed by fears of a fatal attack, and so conscious of the terrible load of

responsibility that devolved upon him as the doctor, that I could not bring him round to share my view.

It was for the parents, and the parents alone, in the last resort, to take a decision which might have serious consequences for their

child. To my great astonishment, they entirely agreed with me, and said they were ready to accept all the risks of an experiment on
which I did not enter myself without terrible anxiety. No doubt they realised how much harm the existing system was doing to all that
was best in their son, and if they loved him to distraction their love itself gave them the strength to let him run the risk of an accident
which might prove fatal rather than see him grow up a man without strength of character or moral fibre.

Alexis Nicolaïevitch was delighted at this decision. In his relations with his playmates he was always suffering from the incessant

supervision to which he was subject. He promised me to repay the confidence reposed in him.

Yet, sure though I was of the soundness of my view, the moment the parents’ consent was obtained my fears were greater than

ever. I seemed to have a presentiment of what was to come....

Everything went well at first, and I was beginning to be easy in my mind, when the accident I had so much feared happened

without a word of warning. The Czarevitch was in the schoolroom standing on a chair, when he slipped, and in falling hit his right knee
against the corner of some piece of furniture. The next day he could not walk. On the day after the subcutaneous hæmorrhage had
progressed, and the swelling which had formed below the knee rapidly spread down the leg. The skin, which was greatly distended,
had hardened under the force of the extravasated blood, which pressed on the nerves of the leg and thus caused shooting pains, which
grew worse every hour.

I was thunderstruck. Yet neither the Czar nor the Czarina blamed me in the slightest. So far from it, they seemed to be intent on

preventing me from despairing of a task my pupil’s malady made so perilous. As if they wished by their example to make me face the
inevitable ordeal, and enlist me as an ally in the struggle they had carried on so long, they associated me in their anxieties with a truly
touching kindness.

The Czarina was at her son’s side from the first onset of the attack. She watched over him, surrounding him with her tender love

and care and trying by a thousand attentions to alleviate his sufferings. The Czar came the moment he was free. He tried to comfort
and amuse the boy, but the pain was stronger than his mother’s caresses or his father’s stories, and the moans and tears began once
more. Every now and then the door opened and one of the Grand-Duchesses came in on tip-toe and kissed her little brother, bringing
a gust of sweetness and health into the room. For a moment the boy would open his great eyes, round which the malady had already
painted black rings, and then almost immediately close them again.

One morning I found the mother at her son’s bedside. He had had a very bad night. Dr. Derevenko was anxious, as the

hæmorrhage had not been stopped and his temperature was rising. The inflammation had spread further and the pain was even worse
than the day before. The Czarevitch lay in bed groaning piteously. His head rested on his mother’s arm, and his small, deathly-white
face was unrecognisable. At times the groans ceased and he murmured the one word “Mummy!” in which he expressed all his
sufferings and distress. His mother kissed him on the hair, forehead, and eyes, as if the touch of her lips could have relieved his pain
and restored some of the life which was leaving him. Think of the tortures of that mother, an impotent witness of her son’s martyrdom
in those hours of mortal anguish—a mother who knew that she herself was the cause of his sufferings, that she had transmitted to him

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the terrible disease against which human science was powerless! Now I understood the secret tragedy of her life! How easy it was to
reconstruct the stages of that long Calvary.

CHAPTER IV

THE CZARINA, ALEXANDRA FEODOROVNA

HE Czarina, Alexandra Feodorovna, formerly Alice of Hesse, and fourth child of the Grand Duke Ludwig of Hesse and Alice of
England, youngest daughter of Queen Victoria, was born at Darmstadt on June 6th, 1872. She lost her mother early in life, and

was largely brought up at the English Court, where she soon became the favourite granddaughter of Queen Victoria, who bestowed on
the blonde “Alix” all the tender affection she had had for her mother.[8]

At the age of seventeen the young princess paid a prolonged visit to Russia, staying with her elder sister Elisabeth, who had

married the Grand-Duke Sergius Alexandrovitch, a brother of the Czar Alexander III. She took an active part in Court life, appeared
at reviews, receptions, and balls, and being very pretty was made a great fuss of.

Everybody regarded her as the prospective mate of the Heir to the Throne, but, contrary to general expectation, Alice of Hesse

returned to Darmstadt and nothing had been said. Did she not like the idea? It is certainly a fact that five years later, when the official
proposal arrived, she showed signs of hesitation.

However, the betrothal took place at Darmstadt during the summer of 1894, and was followed by a visit to the Court of England.

The Russian Heir at once returned to his country. A few months later she was obliged to leave suddenly for Livadia, where Alexander
III. was dying. She was present when his end came, and with the Imperial family accompanied the coffin in which the mortal remains of
the dead Emperor were carried to St. Petersburg.

The body was taken from Nicholas station to the Cathedral of St. Peter and St. Paul on a dull November day. A huge crowd

was assembled on the route of the funeral cortège as it moved through the melting snow and mud with which the streets were covered.
In the crowd women crossed themselves piously and could be heard murmuring, in allusion to the young Czarina, “She has come to us
behind a coffin. She brings misfortune with her.”

It certainly seemed as if from the start sorrow was dodging the steps of her whose light heart and beauty had earned her the

nickname of “Sunshine” in her girlhood.

On November 26th, thus within a month of Alexander’s death, the marriage was celebrated amidst the general mourning. A year

later the Czarina gave birth to her first child—a daughter who was named Olga.

The coronation of the young sovereigns took place in Moscow on May 14th, 1896. Fate seemed already to have marked them

down. It will be remembered that the celebrations were the occasion of a terrible accident which cost the lives of a large number of
people. The peasants, who had come from all parts, had assembled in masses during the night in Hodinskoïe meadows, where gifts
were to be distributed. As a result of bad organisation there was a panic, and more than two thousand people were trodden to death
or suffocated in the mud by the terror-stricken crowd.

When the Czar and Czarina went to Hodinskoïe meadows next morning they had heard nothing whatever of the terrible

catastrophe. They were not told the truth until they returned to the city subsequently, and they never knew the whole truth. Did not
those concerned realise that by acting thus they were depriving the Imperial couple of a chance to show their grief and sympathy and
making their behaviour odious because it seemed sheer indifference to public misfortune?

Several years of domestic bliss followed, and Fate seemed to have loosened its grip.
Yet the task of the young Czarina was no easy one. She had to learn all that it meant to be an empress, and that at the most

etiquette ridden Court in Europe and the scene of the worst forms of intrigue and coterie. Accustomed to the simple life of Darmstadt,
and having experienced at the strict and formal English Court only such restraint as affected a young and popular princess who was
there merely on a visit, she must have felt at sea with her new obligations and dazzled by an existence of which all the proportions had
suddenly changed. Her sense of duty and her burning desire to devote herself to the welfare of the millions whose Czarina she had
become fired her ambitions, but at the same time checked her natural impulses.

Yet her only thought was to win the hearts of her subjects. Unfortunately she did not know how to show it, and the innate timidity

from which she suffered was wont to play the traitor to her kind intentions. She very soon realised how impotent she was to gain
sympathy and understanding. Her frank and spontaneous nature was speedily repelled by the icy conventions of her environment. Her
impulses came up against the prevalent inertia about her,[9] and when in return for her confidence she asked for intelligent devotion and
real good will, those with whom she dealt took refuge in the easy zeal of the polite formalities of Courts.

In spite of all her efforts, she never succeeded in being merely amiable and acquiring the art which consists of flitting gracefully but

superficially over all manner of subjects. The fa...